


Doff Thy Name

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12679674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: Another take on post-Framework FitzSimmons. No spoilers for season 5.





	Doff Thy Name

Fitz inhaled and exhaled slowly, turning in a small circle to examine his room on the new base. It looked unsurprisingly like his room on the old base – at least, like it did before it was destroyed in fire and chaos. Fitz shook his head quickly. 

The new base was remarkably similar, even down to a resident Koenig (Max). Part of him found it comforting, but the rest wanted to close his eyes against the memories, both good and bad. Breathing out harshly, Fitz turned to look at the blank wall opposite the bed, imagining the poster of space hanging there. Of course, it wouldn’t ever hang there. It was destroyed, as was everything it represented.

The door to the bunk opened, and Fitz turned in surprise. That feeling only strengthened when he realized it was Jemma, loaded down with several shopping bags. 

“Ugh, remind me never to go shopping with Piper again,” Jemma complained good-naturedly, even as she lifted one hand to pass over some of the new purchases.

Fitz was taking them from her before he realized what he was doing. He stared, rather confused, at the bags, before focusing on Jemma again.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice raw and quiet.

It was only because he knew her so well that he saw her react. Just a slight tension in her back, and then she merely returned to the bags she had placed on the bed. He watched as she pulled out sheets and towels, a pack of blue shirts in his size, and several pairs of the wool socks she liked to wear in the winter. 

“I’m so happy S.H.I.E.L.D. is official again, because we made quite a dent in its budget replacing everything.”

“Jemma – ”

“And Coulson actually allowed Daisy and Mack to get a new PlayStation, can you believe it?”

“Jemma – ”

“You might want to try on these trousers. I think you’ve lost a little weight, so they might not – ”

“ _Jemma_.”

She stopped then, and turned to face him. Her expression was defiant. 

“I – I asked Koenig to give us separate rooms.”

“I know,” she confirmed. “And I told him not to.”

Fitz sought for a response, dropping her gaze to look away. He pushed his fist against the palm of his other hand and tried to think of a way to convince her. 

“Maybe we should take some time apart,” he finally said.

He didn’t look up, but he could feel Jemma’s eyes on him for a long, terrible beat. 

“No.”

“Jemma,” Fitz growled.

“No!” she nearly shouted, throwing the new toothbrushes in her hand onto the mattress. Fitz watched as they bounced, then settled. Jemma took a breath, breathed it out slowly, then spoke much more calmly. “I don’t want to break up.”

“That’s not what I’m – I think you probably need some time to really decide if you still want – ”

“I don’t need any time,” she replied, cutting him off with a certainty Fitz desperately wanted to trust. “I still…want.”

He finally met her eyes again, and they held each other’s gaze for an unbearably intimate moment.

“And,” Jemma said slowly, stepping forward and reaching a hand out, treating him like a cornered animal. Considering his growing panic, she probably wasn’t too far off. “I heard you talking to…to her. So I know you still want, too.”

Fitz looked down, swallowing thickly. But when her hand finally made contact, he didn’t withdraw, although he did flinch. And when she turned away several moments later, he helped her unpack the rest of the items. He supposed she could stay for a little while. It’s not like he slept much these days anyway, so at least somebody would make use of the bed. 

But that night, she wouldn’t hear of him curling up in the chair, and he finally gave into her demands to crawl stiffly into bed. She immediately rolled half on top of him, her head on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist. It felt like she belonged there. He was surprised how quickly he relaxed, and even more surprised when he woke up in the morning, with Jemma still clinging to him and not a single lingering torment from the nightmares that had plagued him since the Framework.

**

He tried again to convince her that Friday at dinner. Most meals, she let him hide away – in the lab, in his room, wedged into a small corner in a dead area of the base. But she held firm once a week, making him eat with the rest of the group in the common room that was slowly starting to fill with laughter and conversation as everyone (else) recovered from the Framework. And occasionally even making him go off base with her, on a date.

It was one of those, Mexican food at a little hole in the wall, where he brought up the idea once more. Jemma sighed and put her fork down. Leaning forward, she caught his eye.

“If I really thought you didn't want me around, or would be better off without me, then...but I don't. And you wouldn't be. I made that mistake before, and I won’t again.”

Fitz was quiet for a moment, remembering back to those dark days after the Pod. It almost seemed minor now, compared to everything that had happened since. Then he returned to the topic at hand, his argument now drawing on logic that might convince her when other appeals hadn’t.

“But don't you think this is something I should work through on my own? Like a healthy adult able to function independently?”

“Nonsense. Humans are social animals; we heal in part through support of loved ones. This is just as much for me as it is for you, by the way, if that makes it easier somehow. Certainly, you should take alone time when you need it and anything else you might need, but don't think you can just put me aside, put _us_ aside, and we'll somehow be better when you're ready to take me back.”

“That's not – ”

“Fitz, I want to marry you someday.”

He was speechless. A shocked silence filled the space between them, and she started to fidget.

“Do you want to – ”

“Yes.”

“Then, what do you think that means?” she asked, throwing her hands up. “Do you think every time something bad happens for the rest of our lives, you can never rely on me? You'll move into the shed in the garden until you're ready to face me again? Do you think that we can't hold onto each other and work through problems together, gaining strength from each other? That you're somehow weak and codependent and not fully recovered because you can't make it through every crisis without the person who loves you as much as you love them? _For better and worse_ , Fitz. We're just getting a jump on that vow now.”

He stared at his food, thinking about what she said. He wanted to believe that she was right, and he could keep her, and they would be fine. That there would be a _better_ someday to make up for all this worse. A few moments later, her hand reached out and covered his own. Almost instinctively, he turned his hand over so their fingers could intertwine.

“I learned this the hard way, Fitz,” she continued, softer and more comforting. “I don't need to remind you how horrible it was when I left for Hydra – it was for both of us. And I don't need to remind you how I healed after Maveth, with you holding my hand and supporting me despite everything.”

He nodded. They were stronger together. 

“Trust me,” Jemma added. “I'm smarter than you.”

He scoffed in offense, because he knew that tone of hers and he knew she wanted him to object. “You are not,” he lied.

“Oh, really?” Jemma responded, playing her role in this ancient argument. “Well, who finished top of our class at the Academy?” 

Fitz smiled.

**

He didn’t know what possessed him. Maybe because she’d just solved their latest crisis, filling her with a combination of relief and smugness. Maybe because it was late at night and they were the only ones in the lab. Maybe because it’d been far too long and he was starting to worry he’d forgotten what her lips tasted like.

Whatever the reason, he was fast remembering. And he was also enjoying their softness, the little moan-squeak she hadn’t been able to stop when he leaned in and captured her in the tender kiss, and her fingers threading through and burying into his hair. 

Jemma broke the kiss for a moment, breath heavy and rough. Fitz didn’t pull away far, as he was unwilling to separate now after so long. And soon, Jemma closed the distance again, their kiss turning deep and passionate. 

Fitz stepped closer, their bodies coming into full contact, and he moved his arms to scoop her into an embrace. Jemma moaned, the sound making his pulse quicken and filling him with an urgent heat. Barely aware of what he was doing, he picked her up, placing her on top the surface of the near table. 

It felt right and wrong, strange and familiar, when she moved her hands to his cheeks and tilted his face up to the new angle. But, of course, it only made sense to be in this position, since she was taller than him. She used to tease him about it, when they first met back at the Academy, but it was something they both enjoyed, that feeling of power that Ophelia – 

Fitz broke the kiss, turning away from Jemma and squeezing his eyes shut. His breath shuddered as he fought for control over his memories, and he covered his face with his hands.

“Fitz?” she asked softly, her hand grazing his shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

Fitz shrugged it off, walking out of the lab without a backwards glance.

**

Two nights later, he blinked his eyes open, suddenly wide awake. He couldn’t see the clock, but he guessed it was very late. It took him a moment to realize what had woken him. Next to him, Jemma’s shoulders shook. Only occasionally would a small, broken gasp or wet sniffle break the solemn silence and reveal the sobs she was trying to hide.

Fitz considered pretending he was asleep. Judging by her continued despair, she hadn’t noticed he was awake, frozen with fear and guilt next to her. It would be so easy to close his eyes, force steady breaths and avoid another devastating conversation. 

But he’d never been able to handle knowing Jemma was in pain. He couldn’t just ignore it. Not when he was the cause. 

Fitz blindly reached out, his hand tentatively touching Jemma’s back. He knew the scar from her surgery started just below his fingers, and if she had been naked, he’d be able to trace it like he had so many times before. But they didn’t get naked with each other anymore. 

As soon as he made contact, Jemma inhaled sharply and her back stiffened. Fitz forced himself to keep his hand where it was, despite the almost unbearable desire to back away again. Instead, he breathed deeply and steeled himself.

“If not for me,” he whispered, surprised at how calm his voice sounded, “then for you.”

Jemma didn’t say anything, and Fitz decided to take that as a positive sign or perhaps permission to continue. He scooted closer, swallowing as he searched for a way to convince Jemma. There was no need for them both to suffer like this. 

“It’s…hard,” Jemma said, surprising him. He had to lean even closer to hear her. Fitz pressed his lips together tightly, forcing himself to let her speak, but losing that battle as soon as she added, “And sometimes I want to run away, like before.”

“It wouldn’t be – ”

“It would be. It would be so much easier to try to forget or ignore or retreat.” She breathed out harshly. “But I don’t want an easy life.”

Fitz’s heart clutched with a painful sort of hope, despite his best intentions. 

“I want a life with you,” Jemma concluded. After a moment, she exhaled a weak laugh. “That sounded better in my head.”

Fitz thought over what she had just said, suddenly unable to control his own laughter. And somehow, at – he glanced at the clock – three in the morning on a random Thursday, he found himself gasping for air as he and Jemma broke into helpless, almost hysterical laughter. She rolled to face him, wrapping her arms around him, and they clung to each other as they fought to catch their breath only to collapse into giggles again.

**

Two weeks later, Fitz glared at the drone in front of him, displacing all his anger and frustration and embarrassment and confusion on it. He didn’t know how to ask her what he had been thinking about incredibly often lately. He didn’t know how to explain it, afraid she would take it the wrong way or think it was – he didn’t know how to stop thinking about it. He especially didn’t know if it would help or hurt, in the long run. He just knew he wanted it.

“What is it?”

Fitz glanced up. Jemma was looking at him curiously from her work station. She raised an eyebrow as she waited for his response.

“Ah…” Fitz stared at the drone again. There was no one else in the lab at the moment. He should just ask her. She had been so good about everything else, taking it all in stride, seeming to understand and accept and –

He was so fucking tired of being so broken. 

“Will you call me Leopold?” he blurted.

She fumbled the equipment in her hand, awkwardly catching it and placing it on her bench. “What?” she asked, her amused skepticism evident, yet just as obviously an attempt to hide her wary confusion. 

“Not – not all the time. Not forever. Just – in the lab sometimes, maybe. When it’s just the two of us.”

“Can I ask…why?”

Fitz breathed in and out, in and out. He stared at the drone for another moment. He thought about when he was a child and his father would sneer that name at him. He thought about the Framework and the way his not-father would say it with menacing, conditional pride. He thought about hearing it when _she_ – 

“It was what…” _they_ “…it was what he called me, in there. And what – ” _they_ “ – he called me here, too, of course. For years, I refused – I denied – I – I don’t want him to own that name anymore. It’s _yours_ , just like everything else of mine.” 

He risked a glance at her, but he couldn’t understand her expression. 

Finally, she responded, “I need to think about it.”

Fitz awkwardly jerked his head in an attempt at a nod, then focused entirely on the drone in front of him again. A few moments later, he heard Jemma’s footsteps. He didn’t look up as she left the lab.

**

Inside an abandoned warehouse in Kentucky, Mack, Elena and May were wrapping up a mission. A new Inhuman was now in protective custody, ready to begin assessment and perhaps even training. Outside the warehouse, Fitz and Jemma stood side by side, waiting for the others. There was nothing else to do. Fitz sighed, looking up into the night sky.

Moments later, he felt Jemma’s hand slip into his. It felt so natural, he didn’t even twitch in surprise or discomfort. Instead, he squeezed her hand softly, before intertwining their fingers. It reminded him vaguely of the time before, when they held hands in the falling ash. 

Some things were inevitable, he remembered. And there was no point in fighting them. Especially when he didn’t even want to.

**

To be completely honest, it wasn’t even his best design. But it _was_ the first piece of _new_ tech since…since. The first time he allowed himself to use his creativity and his skills to build something. He’d had to work past the hesitation and the fear that – well, that someone could use it for something horrible, not to mention the worry that the seed of the idea had come from…one of _them_ , rather than his own imagination. And he’d had to ignore the hope that this meant he could do something right for a change, and his legacy wouldn’t be death and pain.

So, no. It wasn’t his best design, but he felt more giddy and proud – smug, even – over it than he had over any of his previous work. He couldn’t hide his excitement as he demonstrated it to Jemma, and a part of him noted the sparkle in her eye as she watched him work. The tech really was an elegant piece of equipment, destined to save lives and revolutionize field missions. And he’d built it all. 

Jemma leaned closer to inspect it, then straightened again. When she faced him, she was closer than he’d realized. Her smile was tantalizing, and Fitz couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to her lips. She swayed closer, lifting one hand to curl it on top of his chest.

It felt like she burned him, where they touched. 

“Excellent work,” she whispered. A pause only noticeable to him, and then she added, simultaneously sultry and uncertain, “Leopold.” 

Fitz’s eyes widened, his pulse began to race, and – and he reached one hand up, grabbing onto hers and intertwining their fingers. Ignoring the prototype, he hurried out of the room, tugging her behind him.

“Fitz? What…?”

He didn’t answer, his focus too single-minded to process the question. Thankfully, the layout of the new base was in his favor, and the suites were not too far from the lab. With his free hand, he picked up his lanyard, holding it in front of the scanner until it beeped. And then he led Jemma inside their bedroom. 

“Fitz?” she asked, laughing, “What on earth – ?”

He turned to face her, reaching past her to push the door shut. They stared at each other for a long beat, just long enough for Jemma’s laughter to subside and be replaced with anticipation. Fitz stepped forward, placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her into a kiss. 

She gasped, and sunk against him. Fitz shifted again, wrapping his arms around her to support her weight, even as he turned them in a semi-circle. Their breaths were loud in the room, and the wet smacking noise of their mouths might have made him laugh under less intense circumstances. Instead, the sounds of their passion spurred him on, and he walked them both over to the bed. Jemma dragged her hands down his cheeks, dropping them to his collar and pulling him even closer. 

They lowered, half-controlled and half-clumsily, onto the bed, their lips never more than a few centimeters from each other’s. Fitz spared half a thought in amusement that they were sprawled sideways across the mattress. Her legs hung off the end, and there was just enough space for him to kneel awkwardly above her. He rested one elbow by her shoulder to hold his weight as he fumbled one-handed to pull the zip of his fly.

“Is this OK?” he managed to ask before kissing Jemma again. 

She mumbled something unintelligible against his mouth, a plea or a whimper, perhaps. And she frantically nodded, even as her own hands reached to her jeans’ fastenings. 

If he had allowed himself to think about it, he’d have wanted their first time after the Framework to be slow and romantic, a reaffirmation of their feelings for each other, something that was undeniably them. In a way, this was better. It reminded him in many ways of their very first time, and so it was just as much _them_ as any of the subsequent times when they had _made love_ with all the stereotypes that phrase implied. 

And so, maybe it wasn’t the makings of a romantic fantasy when their fingers tangled together as they tugged down her knickers, or when he blindly pushed his own trousers down, or when he slid his cock into her. But maybe it was so much better than a fantasy. Jemma’s moans and groans filled the room, her wet, harsh breaths right next to his ear as he rocked and rocked and rocked.

With a small grunt, Jemma pushed him up, and Fitz propped himself on his elbows above her. They made eye contact, and Fitz couldn’t look away. Jemma’s eyelids fluttered shut each time he buried himself deep inside her. 

She seemed for a moment like she wanted to say something, and some part of Fitz wanted to let her speak, to listen to what she needed to say. But it had been so long and it – he pressed down harder, and the pressure on her clit turned her nonverbal. She shouted out with her climax, and Fitz nearly sobbed with lust, with the need for release and – 

His orgasm was powerful and unstoppable, seeming both sudden and far overdue. His shout tore at his throat, and he lost his balance, causing him to topple onto Jemma. With a slight _oof_ and then a peal of laughter, she wrapped her arms around him, closely followed by her legs which she hooked at the ankle just below his arse. Tightening her embrace, she pulled him closer, and Fitz took the message, rolling his hips slightly in an attempt to prolong their coupling.

Her breaths were loud in his ear, intermingled every so often with satiated, happy moans. Fitz chuckled involuntarily. Soon, she joined him and their laughter filled the room.

**

He found her in a small sitting room on the second floor of the new base. It didn’t take much of a search, as he knew how much she loved the room. It had floor-to-ceiling windows that were perfect for watching the sunrise, it was far enough away from the main centers of activity to be fairly empty most days, and there was an overstuffed chair that she had claimed shortly after they all had moved in.

“Jemma,” he said as he entered the room. 

Despite his greeting, his entrance still surprised her and she jumped before looking at him with a smile. She patted the small sliver of cushion next to her, and Fitz accepted the invitation, squeezing into the space she made for him. Jemma shifted until she was half on top of him. Fitz wrapped one arm around her in a slightly awkward embrace. 

“What’s that?” Jemma asked, nodding at the packet in his other hand. 

“Protocol,” he replied, handing it to her. “I wanted you to look it over before I present it to Coulson and the rest of the team.”

“Ethical Evaluation Committee?” Jemma asked, reading off the cover page. 

Fitz shrugged. “Like an IRB or something. Steps S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists need to go through to undertake research and development. At least for projects that are not for mission emergencies. Transparency. Accountability. Good of the many, and all that.”

Jemma hummed, flipping through each page but not yet reading them. Fitz was silent as he searched for the words he wanted to say. 

“Jemma…I’m sorry.”

She froze for a moment, then sighed, reaching one hand up to scratch at her eyebrow. “Her claim that she didn’t manipulate you was just another lie,” she said for what felt like the 20th time. “Nothing that happened in there was your fault.”

“Maybe not,” Fitz said, unwilling to disagree with her yet again. “But the Framework in the first place, and – AIDA. They only existed because of me, because I – ”

“Yes, that’s true,” Jemma interrupted, firm but not unkind. Fitz sucked his lower lip between his teeth and breathed harshly through his nose. “And…it’s awful, what happened, and that you were so betrayed, and the – the memories I have of you – hurting me. I would never diminish that.”

“But?”

Jemma shrugged. Fitz watched her, curious and confused, as she seemed to search for an answer. “It’s just another trauma we have to deal with. I don’t need an apology because I don’t blame you. But I do need you by my side as we…recover and move forward.”

Fitz stared out the window, unseeing. Perhaps for the first time, he believed her, probably because for the first time, she openly acknowledged her own pain and fear and resentment. 

“What can I do?” Fitz asked.

“Hmm?”

“I need – it feels so lopsided, sometimes. I need to be able to do something to – to help you. To feel like we _are_ in this together. What can I do?”

She faced him then, reaching her hands out to his cheeks to hold him still. Fitz felt vulnerable, and wanted to turn away, but he forced himself to meet her eyes. 

“Just keep talking to me,” she whispered. “Keep figuring out each day with me.”

In some ways, it was both the hardest and easiest thing she’d ever asked of him.

**

The moment felt surreal, dream-like, and Fitz was holding onto his control by only a few frayed threads. It was early morning still, long before the hubbub of the base would begin to reach its normal daily levels. He didn’t think it was possible to get any closer to Jemma than he currently was, on his side facing her, and his cock nestled where his mouth had just been. Jemma rested one hand over his heartbeat, heavy eyelids barely open. His breaths were deep and a little uneven, and he kept one hand against her lower back, holding her against him.

“Jemma… “ he murmured before kissing her again. 

Their pace was steady but not rushed. Fitz wanted to get and give as much pleasure as possible, and so he – 

“Oh, _Leopold_ ,” she responded. 

His next breath was sharp, a staccato shudder to correspond with the skip of his hips. It didn’t bring him out of the moment, exactly. If anything, it brought him right to the edge of orgasm. Fitz leaned forward to rest his forehead against Jemma’s neck. 

Jemma’s mischievous moan didn’t help. 

“Yes,” she murmured in his ear, her voice practically dripping with desire. “Give it to me.”

He did, groaning in delight as he pushed inside her again. The slow, measured movements were lost, replaced with barely restrained thrusts. Each one forced a gasp from Jemma, and the sound simply encouraged him more. He kissed her sloppily, sucking on her lower lip and then her chin, shifting over to her jaw and then her earlobe. He raised one hand to fondle her breast, making her moan out loud. 

“Say it again,” he asked – perhaps even begged. 

She knew exactly what he was requesting and complied immediately. “Leopold,” she repeated. “Oh! _Yes_.”

Fitz whined, redoubling his efforts only to be surprised by Jemma pushing him. She forced him to his back, then climbed to her knees, straddling him and riding him hard and fast. Everything about it, from the way she took exactly what she wanted from him to the way her breasts swayed back and forth just above his face, was overwhelmingly hot. He dug his fingers into the sides of her hips, trying to hang on if nothing else, and as the pillow beneath his head got pushed aside, his head tilted back, baring his throat, and his eyes closed in ecstasy and – 

“Look at me, look at me,” she panted breathlessly. 

Fitz’s eyes flew open, meeting hers instantly. There were twin circles of red high on her cheekbones from the exertion or the arousal, and her hair fell in front of her eyes, and she was _gorgeous_. He couldn’t stop himself from digging his heels into the mattress and lifting himself to meet her halfway. Their movements turned even more erratic, and Fitz slapped one hand to Jemma’s lower back again, while lifting the other to grip somewhere between her neck and shoulder. His breath was frenzied, and she writhed above him. He half-worried he’d buck her right off, but he couldn’t stop. Not when she was clenching around him and scratching her nails down his chest and – 

“All mine,” she practically growled. “Every part of you. Not his. _Not hers_.”

“Yours,” Fitz managed to say. “I’m yours.”

“Fuck! Yes! Leopold, Leo – oh!”

The shout that marked her climax was loud, and it triggered Fitz’s own release. He half-sat, throwing his arms around her in an embrace, pulling her fully onto him even as he twisted slightly and pushed off the firm mattress to press inside her. His whole body seemed to tremble and shake with the force of his orgasm, and he buried his face against her again as he tried to calm himself.

Several minutes passed before he realized Jemma was speaking. Even then, though, it was simply nonsense soothing sounds she whispered to him as she stroked her hands softly across his bare back. He almost felt like crying – from relief, from the sensation, from – 

“How did you know?” he asked quietly. “That, um, that that would work.”

“Just a lucky guess,” she replied, her tone a mix of amusement and self-satisfaction.

**

Fitz scratched at the back of his head, then reached down to scroll the screen on his tablet. It was late, much later than he liked to work, but it was good practice to run any tests as soon as they returned from the field. This time, though, it proved to be an unnecessary precaution – there was nothing concerning about the results.

He vaguely registered Jemma’s soft noise of complaint as she stood up from where she bent over her microscope. 

“Anything?” he asked without looking at her.

“Nope,” she replied, popping the p. “You?”

Fitz shook his head, even as he opened the last page of output. Nothing.

“Well,” Jemma continued, “time for bed, then, Leopold.”

Unconsciously, Fitz cringed. “Ugh, what did I do? Don’t call me that.”

There was a pointed silence, and Fitz finally looked up. Her expression was odd, a mix of teasing and clear relief and perhaps a bit of disappointment. Fitz ran through the last bit of conversation in his head and…

“Oh,” he realized.

The teasing won out, and Jemma prowled towards him, her hips swaying seductively and a smirk dancing at her lips. “But you said it’s mine,” she reminded him. “The name belongs to me, so I should be able to use it whenever.”

His cock hardened immediately, sitting up and drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs. “Let’s just – let’s just save it for special occasions,” he suggested breathlessly. 

Jemma shot him a wicked glance, reaching up to rest her hand on his chest. “OK…Leopold.”

Fitz shook his head, attempting to look like he was scolding her. “You asked for it,” he declared, putting the tablet on the bench. 

Before he could reach out for her though, Jemma squealed playfully. She ran in the direction of the bedroom, with Fitz following as fast as he could.

**Author's Note:**

> \- So a huge reason for this story is that I'm incredibly vocal about how much I hate when canon-compliant fics have Jemma call Fitz Leo(pold) in a way he actually likes/wants, and so it ended up being kind of a challenge to myself to try to make it work.
> 
> \- I came this close to trying to work some kind of "say my name, bitch" thing into this, but it's already got enough cringe-inducing dirty talk so...


End file.
